


In the Bleak Midwinter

by Amelia_Clark



Series: 30 Day Cheesy Trope Challenge [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Angst, Blow Jobs, Episode: s05e04 The End, I really hate being cold, M/M, it's cold here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 05:38:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2570144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelia_Clark/pseuds/Amelia_Clark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The camp's under two feet of snow, and Dean's cabin is drafty as hell; it's somehow colder inside than it is outside, and that's why he's standing at Castiel's door, envying the racket of his space heater and hoping Cas will let him in this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Bleak Midwinter

**Author's Note:**

> **#7: Stuck together someplace in the winter**
> 
>  
> 
> Guys, I can't even write endverse without it turning out kind of romantic. I'm completely hopeless.

The camp's under two feet of snow, and Dean's cabin is drafty as hell; it's somehow colder inside than it is outside, and that's why he's standing at Castiel's door, envying the racket of his space heater and hoping Cas will let him in this time.

Apparently, it's warm enough in his cabin that Cas isn't even wearing a coat when he appears, and he makes a face at the blast of cold air that accompanies Dean's presence. Or maybe it's just Dean's presence. They haven't really been speaking lately.

"Hey," says Dean. "Can I come in? My place is freezing."

Cas stares him down, thirty seconds before Dean's eyes shift away. "Sure, Fearless Leader," he says with an air of nonchalance. "If you've got pharmaceuticals in one of those pockets."

"What? No, for fuck's sake, Cas, I did not bring you drugs. Spend all your time stoned if you want, but you gotta get your own supplies. Just lemme in, OK? You know my shoulder bugs me when it's cold." It's a knife wound that healed badly, and as soon as he says it he remembers Cas is the one who did a shitty job stitching it up; he hadn't had much experience yet. 

Cas's face shutters. "I get my own propane too, Dean. I don't have to share."

Dean thinks about the walk back to his own room, last night spent listening to the whistle of wind through every gap in the boards, and he uses the only ammunition he's got left. "Please, Cas," he says. "I'll keep you warm."

Cas cocks his head to one side and narrows his eyes, and for a second he looks so much like his old self it's like Dean’s being punched in the stomach; then his mouth spreads into a vacant smile and it's even worse. "If you wanted to fuck, Dean, you could've just said so."

When Dean shoots a guilty look over his shoulder, like someone's going to hear, Cas snorts and beckons him inside. The back room is almost cozy, the floor heaped with pillows and the bed with blankets, the heater chugging along, and Dean's toes start to thaw inside his boots. It's such a relief he sighs.

"Yeah, it's nice in here," says Cas. "Take your clothes off, I'll get you something for that shoulder. Vicodin OK?" He starts to rummage through the pill bottles on the nightstand.

"It's not that bad," Dean says, and sits down on the bed to unlace his boots. Cas shrugs and joins him, pushes impatiently through the layers of clothes Dean's bundled in, slips cool hands beneath and up over his chest. Dean closes his eyes and falls back on the mattress.

"Can I kiss you?" Cas asks. Dean doesn't always let him, but tonight he just needs heat, and Cas's mouth is already searing on his neck, his ear. So he nods, pulls Cas's chin up, and kisses him like he's starved for it.

Cas moans into his mouth, shoves Dean's shirts up into his armpits, leans back to shuck his own over his head; he lies down half on top of Dean, skin like fire everywhere they touch, and Dean can't stop kissing him. Cas tastes like weed and peanut butter.

"Get these off," Cas growls, and Dean hurries to strip coat and flannel and thermal, grabs Cas by the belt and starts fumbling with the buckle. "How do you want to do this?" asks Cas, rolling his hard-on into Dean's waiting hand. "Hands, mouth, cock? How do you want me, Dean?"

"Just—fuck, I don't know, Cas, I just want you. I don't wanna talk about it," gasps Dean as he unbuttons Cas's fly and slides his hand over the rigid warmth inside.

"Mouth it is then," mutters Cas, and urges Dean's hips further up the bed, tugs his pants open and takes out his cock, swirls his tongue around the head and sinks down. Dean moans; his hand hovers over Cas's hair, wanting to stroke and pet but knowing that's too intimate for this, for whatever they are.

So he just says, "Fuck yeah, Cas, that's good," and arches his back, tries not to think about all they've lost.

He comes quickly—Cas knows how to get him off like clockwork—and he's still breathless when Cas pulls off with a smack and crawls up the bed, shoving his jeans to his knees and brushing his cock over Dean's lips. Dean props himself up on his elbows and opens his mouth, relaxing his jaw to let Cas thrust, and when he runs his tongue up the underside Cas yelps loud enough for the next cabin to hear.

"That's it, Dean, come on, suck my cock," pants Cas, and Dean shuts out the memory of the first time they did this, how tender and tentative Cas was, how he whispered words of praise into Dean's ear and touched him like something precious. He can get Cas off like clockwork too, and that's what he does, swallows with a grimace and drops his head back onto the bed.

Cas pulls his pants back up and reaches over to the nightstand, shakes some pills into his palm and swallows them dry. He lies down his side, next to Dean but a couple of feet away, and waits.

And like he always does, Dean moves closer, wraps his arms around Cas's waist, tucks his head into the crook of his neck. He takes a shaky breath. "Will you fuck me in the morning?"

"You're staying?" says Cas, only half surprised.

"Yeah, if that's OK. It's warm here. You're warm."

"It's warmer under the covers," says Cas. They burrow under the blankets together, wrap themselves up again. Dean blinks back tears, kisses Cas's neck.

"Will you?" he asks again.

Cas's hand tightens on Dean's hip, and Dean thinks he’s fighting back tears too. "I will," he says. "You know I will."


End file.
